


Properly

by Million_Moments



Series: Succession [2]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Royalty, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Succession</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Follows on from Succession. Don’t think you necessarily have to have read it, but some things will puzzle you if you haven’t. Sincere thanks to katedf who read this when I was convinced it was rubbish, and gave me encouragement.

From Succession:

 

_“Are you asking me to marry you?” She asked incredulously._

_“NO!” he very nearly shouted. “Why would you think that?!?”_

_“Well, because wouldn’t that be the only way for me to become a Duchess?” Camille questioned. She really hadn’t been expecting this when she’d decided to come say hello to her mother._

_“Well, maybe I just meant in general!” Richard glared at her, annoyed she’d jumped to marriage of all things. “And just for your information, if I was going to propose to you I would do it properly!”_

The first thing he did, when he decided he was definitely going to do it, was make a checklist. Richard Poole was a checklist kind of person. Crossing things off made him feel like he was achieving something, and he knew it would also help keep him somewhat calm about the whole mission. He also considered giving the entire project an operational name, but decided that was a bit excessive and if Camille found out she might use it as evidence to get him sectioned. Thus Richard stuck with just the checklist, which he kept hidden rolled up in a pair of thick socks that he would never, ever need on Saint Marie. He was presuming Camille had no desire to go through his sock draw either, though she had one weekend sorted through his entire wardrobe, and he’d been forced to rescue several items from the bin pile when she wasn’t looking.  

Step one: the ring. First question: how to figure out her ring size? He approached a reputable jeweller, who told him to bring in a ring that he knew fit her, but she didn’t really wear rings. Surely there were other ways he could measure her finger size? Checking the internet to see if other men in his situation had shared there solutions, he hit upon a method he thought might just work. Three mornings in a row, he attempted to wrap a piece of cardboard around her finger whist she was still sleeping. That plan failed completely, when Camille proved just what a light sleeper she was. The first morning, she woke as he was climbing out of bed to fetch the cardboard and pen. Learning from this, he left them in the draw of his bedside cabinet, but she woke when he opened the damn draw. Finally, he slept with the cardboard under his pillow, but (and it didn’t really surprise him) she woke when he lifted her hand.

Wracking his brain, Richard came up with an alternative, somewhat elaborate plan that involved borrowing Rosie (Fidel didn’t mind a free babysitter) and the girl’s own collection of bulky plastic bracelets, rings and necklaces – as well as Catherine’s assortment of costume jewellery. Rosie’s eyes lit up when she realised she was allowed to play with this, and naturally proceeded to put on as much as she could, giving the same treatment to Camille (and to a certain extent, himself). With careful observation born out of years as a detective, he memorised which ring did seem to fit and slipped it into his pocket.

Pleased with himself, he presented the ring and was informed of the correct ring size (An O, whatever that meant). When asked what style engagement ring he wanted, he shrugged and said “Uh, something with a diamond?”

“Ok, so what kind of cut and shape?” The young woman behind the counter asked. When Richard looked at her blankly, she attempted to prompt him, “Round? Oval? Princess?”

Richard had no clue, and said as much. He turned down the offer of an explanation from the assistant for now, instead opting for his normal method of answering questions – incessant research. He found something called “A Practical Guide to Diamond Evaluation” on Amazon, which he though sounded ideal as he was, at least according to Camille, a devastatingly practical person. Though after finishing the book it he felt he could probably assess diamonds professionally, it hadn’t helped him decide about the ring in any way at all. He holed himself up the library one afternoon when he discovered they had a book about famous diamonds. He tried not to sigh too loudly at how many famous diamonds were apparently ‘cursed’. He supposed he was hoping one would have a remarkably romantic story attached to it, that he could use to justify his ring choice. But like its predecessor, this book also failed to categorically inform him what kind of diamond Camille would like best in a ring, and he realised it was quite likely no amount of research would answer that question. He had a choice: he could go with the most popular choice, or pick something on instinct. Richard was well aware that when it came to women, his instincts were not exactly the best. So, round brilliant cut it was.

He announced this to the same, clearly very patient, assistant. When she removed two enormous trays his face fell, then he suddenly remembered his other specification, “Oh and it has to be a conflict free diamond!”

“All of our diamonds are sourced from Canada, Sir,” she explained patiently. Looked like that request wasn’t narrowing his options down then. His face must have shown his distress, as she asked somewhat kindly, “Perhaps Sir has a preference on the type of gold or other metal used in the band?”

No, no he didn’t, but then an idea occurred to him and he asked brightly, “Got any made of palladium?” 

She blinked in surprise, Richard felt he should learn the poor girl’s name, given this was his third visit and unlikely to be the last, “Well, not pure palladium. Some of our white gold bands maybe using palladium as part of the alloy, but I’d have to check with the manufacturers, and it could take some time.”

“That’s ok!” He reassured her, determined to carry through on his idea now he’d had it. The problem was, he had recently become obsessed by the idea that Camille would want to know exactly _why_ he bought the ring he did, and was terrified if he didn’t have some romantic explanation for every aspect of its design she’d say no. “I can come back next week.”

Over the next week, he interviewed Fidel about his proposal to Juliet, and if she had asked questions about the ring. Fidel had really not been sure what he was on about, which could only be a good sign that he might be overreacting. He didn’t tell Fidel why he was quizzing him, and the younger officer was gracious enough not to ask, but had since been shooting him encouraging smiles. Richard was now 98% sure his choice of a palladium gold alloy would be romantic enough. Though he did pop in and ask Molly (he had found out her name from the person who recommended the jeweller in the first place) her opinion as well, and she assured him that the very fact he had chosen the ring, and was taking such pains over doing so, was romantic enough.

His odd request of the jewellers meant when he returned the next weekend he had a mere three rings to pick from. Molly the assistant (who had invited Richard around for tea if he was ever in the neighbourhood – a sure sign the decision was taking him too long), explained _every_ possible detail she could about each of the rings. He pretended to consider everything she said seriously, then just picked the one he though was vaguely prettier than the other two. Molly beamed proudly at him when he made the choice. She then ruined his day by asking if he wanted an inscription.

The panic must have showed on his face, because Molly continued, “Of course an inscription could be done at any time Sir, you could come back when she says yes.”

“If she says yes,” he couldn’t help correcting, but the young woman shook her head almost fondly at him.

“Oh please, everyone on this island knows she’d say yes! Just imagine, Saint Marie having its very own Duchess.”

Richard had not really needed the added pressure of discovering the island of Saint Marie was following the “royal romance” with some interest. If she did say no, they would be talking about it for the next twenty years. Mind, if she said yes, they would still be talking about it for the next twenty years – but he’d be too happy to care. 


	2. Time and Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really struggling with this, probably due to the lack of dialogue! As a consequence, I have sort of gone off on a side track at the end.

“Choose a date” was the next item. Surely this was the easiest item on the list?

The next couple of months actually presented two interesting possibilities. Two significant dates were coming up – Camille’s birthday and the anniversary of the day that they…that their relationship commenced. Richard had a very good head for dates, he did after all have a history degree. He doubted that he would ever forget any of their anniversaries. However popular culture implied that forgetting anniversaries was something married men were very good at. What if it was some sort of peculiarity of being married that made men forgetful about dates? He couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t be immune to this. If it shared a date with another date of importance, surely he would never forget it then?

The ring would be ready at the end of this week, so the first date was a week after that – Camille’s birthday. He glanced back down at his checklist, and felt certain that if he put his mind to it he could complete his preparations in time. So, that was decided then.

 

* * *

 

 

Location, location, location. Right place, right time. That was his next concern. Where the hell should he actually do the proposing? He supposed one way of narrowing things down would be the idea of witnesses. Did he want to propose to Camille anywhere other people were likely to see, like a restaurant or perhaps at her birthday party? He briefly mused that the fact that other people were there might put more pressure on her to say yes, so as to spare his feelings. But then he immediately felt guilty that he was considering a proposal method that coerced her into saying yes. Besides, he didn’t really want other people there, the pressure would increase for him as well. He was bound to be a nervous wreck even if it was just to two of them, God knows what he’d be like with everyone else watching.

No, he would have to pick a location with minimum chance of interruption. Well, there was always at home. But that was hardly romantic, was it? It would look entirely unplanned, but then that might be considered romantic. Except he’d never get away with claiming it was spontaneous because he would have a ring. Nope, home was definitely out of the question.

Ok, he supposed they could go for a nice walk along the beach. Camille loved doing that in the evening, and when he was trying to keep her happy he would join her. Long walks along the beach were never going to be on his list of things he enjoyed. He would of course admit that he loved her company more than he disliked sand, but he’d prefer if he could have her company in the absence of sand. He also had a sudden flashback to the time he got sand in his eye, and imagined that happening as he was trying to propose. He didn’t put the beach on his mental ‘out of the question’ list along with home or Catherine’s, instead he created a sub-list called ‘only if I can’t think of anything more suitable’.

Unable to reach a decision that night, Richard decided he did have enough time to leave it and come back to it. The next day, he found himself assessing nearly every place he saw as a potential location for the proposal. This sadly meant he paid very little attention to Camille on the drive to work, which put her in a bad mood with him. He should have known better really, he was hardly going to spot a nice spot by the side of the road to propose, was he? They were then called out by the fire brigade to have a look at an abandoned, burnt out vehicle on a cliff top. The view was pretty amazing, and it was obviously isolated since somebody was able to set fire to a car and get away with it. He stared at the car, frowning, he knew it would be removed in the next couple of days but the grass and surrounding plants were also singed – would they have grown back in time?

Clearly he had become lost in his thoughts again, because the next thing he knew Camille had punched him in the arm, “Richard? What is wrong with you? I’ve just asked you the same question three times!” She was clearly really annoyed with him. Ignoring her twice in one day was not good for their relationship.

“I’m sorry Camille, I, uh, have a lot on my mind. What did you ask?” He hoped she wouldn’t want him to elaborate on what was distracting him, because he would never come up with a good enough lie in time.

She sighed, “They want to know if we need to collect any more forensic evidence or if they are ok to move the vehicle? I’m pretty sure we’ve got everything between us but it is your decision.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” he agreed quickly. “I agree there isn’t much more we can get from the scene.”

She went off to tell the Fire Chief the news. Richard glanced to his right and noticed one of the firefighters had paused to take a drink of water nearby. Richard glanced over his shoulder to check Camille was out of ear shot and then hurried over to the man.

“You know about fire, right?”

The fire fighter paused from drinking his water to give Richard a funny look. Perhaps that was a bit of an odd question. “Yes Sir, certainly enough to do my job, why? Do you have a question about how the fire might have started or how long it lasted?”

“No, I was wondering if you knew how long it would be before the burnt grass and plants grew back.”

The look of incredulity was back on the man’s face, “I’m not a gardener, Sir.”

“No, of course not, stupid question.”

“What’s a stupid question?” Camille asked from behind him. He should have kept a closer eye on her! He didn’t turn around to face her straight away, instead panicking as he tried to come up with a reply. The fire fighter he had been questioning seemed pretty amused now, and decided to answer for him.

“He was asking how long the vegetation damaged in the fire would take to grow back,” he informed Camille.

When he did face her, she was looking confused. “Is that relevant?” she asked.

“No, I was, you know, just concerned about the, uh, recovery of the local ecosystem.”

She smiled and shook her head fondly at him, “You’re always complaining but I know you care about this island more than you let on. Asking questions like that just proves it. Next thing you know you’ll be running an environmentally friendly tourism company taking people on tours of the jungle and the volcano.”

“Hey, you could run it with Prince Charles!” The fire fighter suggested. “He’s into all that environmental stuff, isn’t he?”

Richard resisted the urge to roll his eyes, it really did seem like there was nobody on the island left who didn’t know he was a bloody Earl. But honestly, being an Earl didn’t automatically make him best mates with the Prince of Wales!

“Oh he _has_ been on the phone a lot recently with some mysterious posh sounding man from England! Maybe they are already putting together the business plan!” Great, now he had a stranger _and_ Camille making fun of him.

“It’s not Prince _Charles_ ,” He told her, shaking his head in frustration. For some reason this statement made Camille’s face light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “What?” He asked, puzzled as to what part of that statement was so pleasing.

“You said it’s not Price _Charles_ ,” Having his words repeated back at him did not help clear anything up, so he just continued to look at her. She rolled her eyes, “Prince _Charles_. You put the emphasis on Charles, rather implying it might _actually_ be a prince!”

Whoops, he sort of had actually. Now Camille had caught him out, especially since his continued silence pretty much just acted as confirmation for her. “Oh my God! Which one is it then?”

He sighed, “Prince Edward.”

“You’re friends with Prince Edward! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“We’re not really friends…more associates. We both read History at Jesus College, Cambridge though at different times. He is involved in television production and is considering making a series on the history of various British Overseas Territories, we’ve simply been discussing logistics,” he explained.

“Oh that sounds so exciting!” Camille gushed.

“Which is why I actually didn’t tell you. If it gets out they’ll be all sorts of pressure put on me to make that series happen by the Commissioner and Governor, but there is a good chance the funding might fall through.”

“No, you didn’t tell me because you thought I would tease you about knowing Prince Edward. Which I would have, and will now do,” She grinned at him, and though Richard knew that had been a major contributing factor, he would never admit it. He would have to prepare himself for a visit from the Commissioner and Governor soon. They would be absolutely delighted by the prospect of a _Prince_ coming to the island to make a whole TV show! He rather hoped it would actually happen, so the attention would be off him. People were bound to find an Earl boring in comparison to a Prince.

As they were heading back to the jeep, Richard came to a sudden dead stop as he remembered something Camille had mentioned. The volcano! Now _there_ was an idea! Ok, he had still never been up there – but that just meant he had a valid excuse for them to go! And he trusted her when she said it was beautiful. Yes, the volcano was the right place! 


	3. Cover Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea for this chapter ages ago, thought it was a good one, and then really struggled to get it down on paper!

Molly at the jewellery store seemed so excited when Richard came to pick up the ring anyone would think she was the one getting married. Her high emotions were caused by the prospect of the island holding a “royal” wedding. Richard had given up trying to explain the difference to the locals between Royal Dukedoms and Inherited Peerages such as his Father’s title. He was pretty sure even Camille thought he was related to the Queen in some way.

“So, have you sorted all the other details?” She asked as she carefully placed the ring in the box. She had asked him if he had any preference on boxes, but at his look immediately suggested she could also just select a suitable one.

“I think so,” he said. He still had to decide what he was actually going to say when he asked, but he had a week to work on that. There probably were books in the library to help him. Or he could go on to YouTube and type in “marriage proposals” to get some inspiration.

Molly leaned across the counter, looking almost conspiratorial, and asked in a low voice, “So where you going to ask then?”

“Oh, um, on top of the volcano?” he didn’t know why it came out as a question, her quizzing him had suddenly made him feel a little insecure about the whole idea.

“Oh that is a beautiful spot!” Molly replied, reassuring him about his choice. “Have you been up there a lot then?”

“Uh, no, actually. I thought I would find an excuse to go up there before hand though, find exactly the right spot.”

His admission made him feel a little ashamed, he was worried Molly might judge him for never having bothered to go to what was meant to be the island’s most beautiful spot. He really had been meaning to. In fact, if anyone was to blame for him not having gone yet it was Camille. Every Saturday they had off together he had always awoken with the intention of proposing they go up there. But before he could speak she would always give him this smile that usually resulted in, well, them not getting much further than the bed for the rest of the morning.

The look he was receiving from Molly was probably actually closer to concern than displeasure. “Um, what is it?” He asked her.

Her expression instantly changed back to cheerful and she said brightly, “Oh you’ll be fine, you’re a police officer after all! But me, I doubt I’d have enough breath to propose by the time I got to the top of the volcano!”

There was absolutely no suggestion in her tone that she was trying to drop a hint, but Richard got it anyway. He asked casually, “Oh, it’s a somewhat difficult climb then?”

“Well, one of the things that makes it so nice is how quiet it is up there because most of the tourists don’t make it to the top!”

Unbidden, an image came into Richard’s mind. Him, covered in sweat and close to dehydration, croaking out a proposal and fumbling and dropping the ring due to sheer exhaustion. Naturally, in this mental picture, Camille looked as lovely as ever – perhaps a slight colour in her cheeks put there by the exercise. She would take one look at him, realise how old he was, and decline.

Luckily, nearly a year of being with Camille had done wonders for Richard’s self-confidence. There was probably a time when this mental image would have been enough for him to toss the whole idea of proposing out the window – and further more declare to Camille that she was wasting her time with him and should go find somebody younger, fitter and more handsome. However in the time they had been in a relationship she had never showed the slightest interest in other men and he was quite assured of her feelings for him. If he wasn’t, he would never have considered proposing in the first place.

As a consequence, he quashed the image as being unhelpful, and instead resolved to simply delay the proposal from Camille’s birthday to their anniversary instead. This would give him plenty of time to climb the volcano multiple times ensuring that, on the day, he would in fact have enough breath to be able to propose when they reached the top. Of course the main difficulty now would be how to hide his activities from Camille…

 

* * *

 

 

It had been more than a little embarrassing asking for Fidel’s help with the whole proposal ‘training’. The younger officer had naturally readily agreed to help. Richard would only need his assistance as a guide the first couple of times, then he’d just be able to make his way up there on his own. Though it would be important for somebody to know where he _actually_ was at those times, because if they didn’t he would probably trip, break an ankle, be unable to get phone signal and end up trapped overnight half way up the blasted volcano.

Now he was in the front room, doing his very best to not lie to Camille – instead, he was simply omitting the truth. Today was to be his first solo foray up the mountain, and Camille was interested in what he was up to – especially given he had had to take the afternoon off especially, and that he had spent time away from her both Saturday and Sunday in his effort to get prepared.

“You said that you thought it was important that we spend time away from each other, and pursue our own individual interests,” he pointed out once again.

“Yes, but when I said that I imagined my interests would be going out with my friends and your interests would be staying in and reading a good book and thus you would be here when I got home. But first off you switch to reading in the library and then, well, I didn’t realise you were going to suddenly start socialising with other people!” She sounded quite annoyed, though her statement if anything gave Richard the right to be the annoyed one.

“So, slight double standards there.”

As soon as he said it she looked guilty, staring at the floor morosely, “I know, I’m sorry. I am just completely spoilt and used to having you whenever I want. You, go on, have fun…what are you doing again?”

“Chess, with Father Charles.” He phrased it carefully, so it was technically true. He actually was popping in to see Father Charles for all of five minutes to borrow a book about chess strategy from him, but Camille didn’t need to know that. He leant over to give her what was meant to be a brief kiss goodbye, but she placed a hand on the back of his neck to keep him in place for something much more thorough. When they did finally break apart, he felt an overwhelming desire to say something to cheer her up, “Well perhaps I can cut back a little on being away from home.” She looked ready to drag him off to bed, so he had to add resolutely, “But not this afternoon, I already have plans.”

 

* * *

 

 

One of the saving graces of his complete inability to cope with the heat, and his refusal to wear more climate appropriate clothing, was that it was in no way unusual when he returned home covered in sweat. It was not unusual for him to shower nearly as soon as he got home from work so he was certain it would not arose suspicion if he were to do so as soon as he got in the door. God knows he needed one.

However his progress towards the bathroom came to an abrupt halt when he realised Camille was sitting on the bed crying soundlessly. This triggered his normal reaction to her tears: complete and utter panic.

“Oh my God, Camille, what’s the matter?”

She stared at the quilt as she told her tale, “I decided to go out to the market and I bumped into Father Charles. I was surprised, asked if you’d already finished your game and he said I must have misunderstood because you had only popped in for five minutes to borrow a book! But you said you would be out _all_ afternoon, so that begs the question – where have you been?”

He opened his mouth to offer an explanation. Even though she still wasn’t looking at him she must have sensed what he was about to do, because she held up a hand to prevent him speaking, “Then I got to thinking that you know, this wouldn’t be the first time you’d been away and vague about where and why. And how you’d come back from the library but you never seemed to have any new books. You’ve found somebody else, haven’t you?” At this point she burst into noisy, messy sobs that took Richard back entirely. Camille, to be fair, had enough evidence to be suspicious but he would never have expected her to react in this manner.

“You aren’t denying it! I’m right, aren’t I?” She half wailed.

“NO! No, it’s not that. Of course I haven’t found anyone else. I think you know that too, because if you really thought I was having an affair you’d have killed me by now – or at least caused actual bodily harm.” He moved cautiously towards her as he said this, still a little afraid the tears may be a front to lure him into a false sense of security before she smothered him with a pillow.

“I love you too much to kill you!”

He couldn’t help himself, a short burst of laughter escaped him at her pronouncement. “It’s not funny!” Camille protested. “You’re an Earl, there are loads of woman on this island who would give anything to be a Duchess and most of them are probably more suitable than me as well!” Oh God, she was just feeling insecure. It was normally the role he took on in the relationship.

He took his cue from the way she behaved towards him when he started believing she was too good for him. Sitting down on the bed next to her, he lifted her chin and told her firmly, “I love you and there isn’t anybody else in the whole world, let alone on the island, that could take me away from you.” It was probably the cheesiest, most cringe-worthy words he had ever uttered – but it did seem to calm her down a bit.

“Where have you been then?”

That was a good question, luckily he was hit by a flash of inspiration and told her cheerfully, “Well, its somebodies birthday in a couple of days!” That was not a lie, it _was_ her birthday. Not that his activities had anything to do with it.

Camille took the bait, interpreting his statement exactly as he hoped, “You’ve been working on a surprise for my birthday? Oh God, now I’ve ruined it, I’m a terrible girlfriend!”

“You are not a terrible girlfriend,” he told her sincerely before pulling her into a hug.

So, now not only did he have a proposal to prepare for – he also had to arrange a surprise party in two days! God help him.

 


	4. The Future Mother-in-Law

When it came down to it, Richard was not capable of arranging a surprise party in 2 days. He was taking weeks to arrange the proposal for goodness sake. No, there was only one person on the island who could get him out of this predicament: his (hopefully) future mother-in-law.

Of course, Catherine was very unlikely to agree to such a task without a proper explanation. This meant he was going to have to tell her of his intention to propose. In the year he and Camille had been together, there had been no serious clashes between Catherine and Richard. He had, for the first few months, made a very conscious effort with her until his changed behaviour just became habit. He could now receive airy kisses without blushing, cringing or pulling away. His father would probably be a little horrified. But, as a consequence of this, he was pretty certain Catherine would not disapprove of the proposal – though he had no qualms in admitting he was very unlikely to be her first choice for Camille.

If this was going to get done, he really needed to see Catherine that evening. Luckily he could now just tell Camille he needed to discuss something about her birthday with her mother (still not a lie!) and she let him go, if a little reluctantly. Actually, considering she was naked in bed when he left, he was a little reluctant as well. He paused on the porch whilst he considered if Catherine would be able to tell what he and Camille had just been up to. No, surely not, she didn’t have mind reading powers…not as far as he knew anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Since it was the evening, it was obviously busy at _La Kaz_. This naturally meant that Catherine was busy as well, serving all those customers. Perhaps he hadn’t picked the most ideal of moments to ask a favour. Catherine slid out from behind the bar to start collecting the empties, and he decided to take his chance.

“Um, Catherine?” He said as quietly as he thought possible to still be heard in the noisy bar.

“Did you run out of milk at home? Because I haven’t got any fresh here!” She told him distractedly.

This question blindsided him somewhat, “Uh, what?”

She paused to address him directly, “I thought you were here for tea. Since you and Camille have figured out how to brew a decent cup at home finally, I couldn’t figure out why else you would be here on your own.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t that at all. I, um, I needed to – ah – talk to you.” He told her, before adding hopefully, “Preferably in private.”

Catherine shook her head, “I have a bar to run Richard! Besides, it is so noisy in here nobody will overhear what you have to say.”

“Ok,” he agreed, largely because he didn’t think he had any other choice. “Well, the thing is Catherine, I’m going to ask Camille to marry me…”

Now that got her full attention. She spared him a brief look before hurrying over to the bar, depositing the glasses and telling the young girl who sometimes helped out that she would be back in five minutes. In England, there would probably be a riot due to the delay caused by this, but life here was much more relaxed. It was not unheard of for people to grab beers from the fridge and leave the money on the bar, including a tip. Catherine took Richard by the elbow and dragged him into the kitchen. He began mentally repeating the mantra ‘don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.’

“Say that again,” were the first words out of her mouth after she had shut the kitchen door firmly behind them.

Richard managed to find his voice to repeat, “I’m planning on asking Camille to marry me.”

Catherine put her hands on her hips, an act that did not alleviate Richard’s panic in the slightest, and said firmly, “And you’ve what, come to ask my permission?”

Richard couldn’t help himself, he burst into laughter. “God no!” This perhaps wasn’t the best idea, because now Catherine was looking at him hands on hips _and_ one eyebrow raised. He hurried to offer and explanation for his amusement, “I’m sorry Catherine, I don’t mean to seem rude, but can you _imagine_ what Camille would do to me if she found out I asked your permission before I asked her to marry me? My life wouldn’t be worth living. You have raised a strong, independent, intelligent woman who doesn’t belong to anyone but herself.”

He noticed a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “Yes, I did. If you had been here to ask permission I would have been _very_ annoyed. So, where is the ring? Let me have a look!”

“Uh,” was the only response he could manage. He hadn’t expected any of the events of this evening so far.

“Oh come on, Richard, there is no way you’d risk hiding it at home in case Camille found it. You must have it somewhere on your person!” This was true, he was hesitating because he was worried Catherine would hate the ring and he would have to go through the whole process of choosing one again. So it was with reluctance that he reached into his jacket pocket and produced the box.

As he opened it up, he told Catherine, “The band is made of an alloy of gold and palladium!”

“Is that somehow significant?” She asked.

It was of course, but Richard realised he couldn’t actually tell her why. So instead he shrugged and said, “I just thought you might like to know.”

“It’s very beautiful, Richard,” she told him, sounding actually sincere. Richard let out a breath he didn’t actually know he’d been holding. “Were you worried? No, you made a good choice, besides this is from Raymond’s isn’t it? Molly would never have allowed you to pick anything hideous.” Come to think of it, Richard had seen her slip a couple of rings off the tray before he could look at them…

“So,” Catherine began again. “There will be grandbabies, yes?”

Richard was beginning to wonder if he would ever get the chance to ask Catherine what he had actually come to ask. At least he knew the answer to this question, he and Camille had discussed it in general terms before. They both had parents who were expecting children, and Camille had always wanted them. Richard had previously never contemplated it deeply. After failing to have a relationship that lasted more than a few months, he began to assume it was simply not going to happen at all. But now that he was in a proper, adult, long-term relationship he realised children were something he would very much like.

“All being well, yes,” he told Catherine. He blushed as he did so, because his mind decided to remind him of exactly how those children would come about. He really should not be thinking about _that_ whilst talking to Camille’s mother.

“Excellent!” She said brightly. “Well, if you aren’t here to ask my permission then why are you here? And be quick I don’t want to leave Marian on her own for much longer.”

“Right, yes, well you see I’ve been putting in a lot of effort to prepare for this proposal and, well, it has meant being away from home and Camille a bit. And, this led to some, uh, suspicion on her half…”

“She thought you were cheating on her!” Catherine seemed highly amused by this notion. “Silly girl!” It was said in such a dismissive way Richard could only assume Catherine felt there wasn’t another woman on the island who would be willing to put up with him. Even though she was probably right, his pride was still a little wounded by her flippant response to Camille’s concerns. He wasn’t fool enough to argue back though.

“Yes, well, in order to convince her otherwise I may have made a vague reference to the fact it is her birthday this weekend. She then came to her own conclusion, which was that I must be planning some sort of surprise,” he explained before pausing, hoping Catherine would discern his intentions.

“ _Mon dieu!_ Richard, you want me to arrange a party in two days?”

She was annoyed, he could tell. He took a small step back and said in the most pleading tone he could muster without losing all his dignity, “Please, Catherine? I’d really prefer to keep the proposal a surprise, and you know _I’ll_ never manage such a task!”

She huffed, “Luckily, the sort of party I can arrange in 2 days’ time is probably equivalent to what it would take you weeks to arrange!”

“Thank you, Catherine.” He felt safe enough to step forward and kiss her on the cheek, a gesture she seemed to appreciate.

She shooed him off then, flapping the cloth she used to clean down tables, “Right, I’ve got a lot of work to do so get out of the way!” As he turned to leave she called after him, “And you better not make me wait too long for those grandbabies!”


	5. Putting it all Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to up the rating due to more blatant sexual references. As premier of series 3 gets closer am becoming increasingly nervous about the possible fate of Richard. This may affect my writing.

The party went off really quite well, and Richard knew he would be eternally indebted to Catherine. Camille’s mother had proved correct on one point – Camille assumed he had done everything himself as Catherine would have managed a much grander affair if she had had the time. At one point he had overheard Camille say to her mother, “He really didn’t ask you for any help, did he?”

“He only asked one thing!” Catherine replied sagely. A clever response as it was technically true – but what he had asked of her was the plan the _entire_ thing.

After managing a fourth climb up the volcano he was feeling more confident he was going to be able to manage it on the planned day of the proposal – their anniversary – without collapsing and dying of heat exhaustion. He’d spent a fair amount of time pretending to read when he was actually thinking about what he was going to say. He eventually decided to go for the tradition of just getting down on one knee, using her full name and the simple question ‘will you marry me?’ You would think this wouldn’t cause any particular issues. However a quick check of Camille’s staff file showed her entire name was Camille Quanesha Bordey. It had apparently been the name of her paternal grandmother, something Richard discovered when he was forced to check with Catherine exactly how to pronounce it. She did not seem impressed that he had previously been unaware of Camille’s full name, but it wasn’t something that came up in conversation every day!

 

* * *

 

 

You would think, with all the preparation he had done, it would occur to him to mention the idea of climbing the volcano _before_ the actual day. Obviously if Camille had come up with any suggestions of specific activities for their anniversary he would have countered with his own – but she merely suggested going out for dinner that evening which wouldn’t actually interfere in his plan. What he did not realise was that she _did_ have plans for how they would spend the day.

When he woke, which was later than he expected as Camille seemed to have turned off the alarm. He rolled over to find that she was not in the bed with him. Confused, and still a bit groggy, he blinked and looked vaguely about the room. A small laugh, presumably at his expense, drew his attention to the doorway where his girlfriend was wearing something new, slinky and very flattering.  Ah, so _this_ was how she wanted to celebrate their anniversary. He did actually open his mouth to try to make the suggestion, but when she started stalking towards the bed he lost his ability to speak. Then, when she crawled up the bed towards him, he forgot what he was going to say in the first place…

 

* * *

 

 

When he woke again, it was 11. This was not good for his plan. He had hoped to leave reasonably early, so the climb could be completed whilst the day was still relatively cool…well, less hot at any rate. Now it was looking like they would be leaving around midday. When he shifted, intending to get out of bed and get dressed before Camille could convince him otherwise. However his movement woke her from the light doze. She stretched, causing the sheet to slip down, and Richard had to practically throw himself from the bed before other parts of his body started making the decisions.

“Where are you going?” She asked, clearly confused by his actions.

“Actually,” he said, voice a little more high pitched than normal, “I was hoping _we_ would be going somewhere. I thought we could go up the volcano today!”

She raised an eyebrow at him, the act either inherited from her Mother or some sort of genetic French trait, “ _You_ want to go up the volcano?”

“Yes!” He said, feigning indignation. “Everyone says it is so beautiful. Nice way to spend our anniversary, don’t you think?”

“Well I was planning to spend it largely making love with occasional breaks for food,” She smiled expectantly, clearly predicting that he would climb straight back into bed. When he didn’t, she sat up and told him, “Richard you don’t have to climb to volcano to prove some sort of point to me. I already know you like the island more than you let on.”

“That’s not why! I really want to go.”

“More than spending the day in bed with me?” That was a good question. He wasn’t sure what the actual answer was – obviously it was an extremely tempting offer but he also knew he _really_ wanted to propose, and he’d rather use the plan he had come up with already.

“I just want us to be able to say we do other things as a couple than…um, well, you know…”

“But we’re so good at that,” she interrupted, tone salacious.

“Camille!” He protested. “You know what I mean. Besides, it takes about 85 minutes to climb up, another 70 down. We’d be back in time to be able to do some more of your activities before, um, you know, our dinner reservations.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted giving precise times. Surely she would be suspicious?

Instead she gave a small frown and said, “Trust you to have researched how long it takes. Well since you seem to have planned it all out…”

 

* * *

 

 

He checked at least 7 times he had the ring. On one of the occasions he actually ended up dropping it, where it proceeded to skid across the floor and under the sofa. Camille chose that moment to come into the front room, meaning he was unable to retrieve it immediately. Though Richard knew there was no reason for her to look under the sofa, he still spent a very tense ten minutes trying to think of a way to get her out of the room – luckily she decided she wanted to wear different shoes and went back into the bedroom giving him enough time to retrieve the box. It stayed firmly in his pocket after that.

Camille didn’t seem annoyed that he had interrupted in her plans, in fact she seemed in rather a good mood as they mounted the slope. “I’m glad you suggested this,” she said sincerely. “You’re right, we _should_ do more things like this as a couple!”

“Do you know what else we should do?” Camille asked him a few moments later. Richard was currently envisioning a future filled hiking excursions he didn’t really want to do. He assumed Camille was about to suggest the first of many such activities. If it meant she said yes, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“No, what else should we do?” he asked. Despite having practised climbing it four times, he was still lagging a little behind her. She had paused and turned to address him.

“We should get married!”

Richard stopped in his tracks and stared, unable to believe what he had just heard. His continued silence clearly made Camille nervous, as she cleared her throat and said, “Um, well, it’s just a suggestion…”

“You are asking me to marry you?” He felt he needed confirmation.

“Well, yes, I guess so.”

He reached up and ran a hand violently through his hair, “You’re asking me to marry you _half way_ up the mountain? Why not wait until we got to the top? Who proposes half way up?” As he spoke, he continued to gesticulate rather wildly.

Camille clearly hadn’t expected that to be his first complaint, and was also a little peeved by his response, “I was being spontaneous! I didn’t plan to ask you to marry me on the volcano, or I would have waited until we got to the top!”

“Oh of course you didn’t _plan_ to. I mean only an idiot would spend _ages_ picking out a ring and then finding a suitable location, carefully considering how to actually ask – why do all that when you can just spontaneously ask half way up the volcano!”

Realisation dawned on her face, “ _Mon Dieu_! You we’re planning to ask me at the top, weren’t you?”

“WELL WHY ELSE WOULD I CLIMB THE BLOODY VOLACANO?” He exploded, before abruptly bursting into laughter. He took a step towards Camille, grabbed her and kissed her. Though thoroughly confused by his behaviour she participated fully. When they finally broke apart he told her, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

She smiled warmly, but then a look of concern came back to her features, “Oh no, Richard, let’s pretend I didn’t ask. You can still ask me at the top of the volcano! I feel so bad for ruining your plans.”

“Don’t,” he told her firmly. “Because quite frankly I prefer this proposal to mine. It’s much more us, don’t you think?”

She giggled, and then looked sort of expectant. “What?” He asked, unclear what she was after. She just raised her eyebrows and then the penny dropped, “Oh, you want to see your ring. Honestly, Camille, your primary concern is always shiny things…”

He fished the box out of his pocket and handed it to her. She frowned, “Are you not going to get down on one knee?”

“You already proposed!” He protested. Surely it wasn’t required to present the ring on one knee if you had been proposed to already? She sighed, looking a little disappointed, but acquiesced, taking the box and opening it – her face a picture of anticipation.

“Oh Richard, it’s beautiful! Did Molly help you pick it out?”

“I...!” He began to protest furiously, but then remembered how useless he had been. “Well, I did a lot of research and she helped me narrow it down and then I picked from those remaining. I chose a band that is an alloy of gold and palladium!” This last bit was said with a hint of pride, as he still thought it was a rather romantic gesture.

Camille gave him a blank look, which was not the response he had been hoping for, “I know there is a reason for that but I am sorry I just can’t figure it out. Is it something sciency?”

“No! It’s because of the time we arrested Benjamin Sami and I hid the true motives of murders in order to prevent a palladium mine being set up on Saint Marie. You said I had really surprised you, I just, um, well it was supposed to be like a promise I would try to keep surprising you…in a good way, of course.”

“Oh that was _palladium_? I thought it was magnesium!” She said brightly. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, internally he was seething that the gesture had entirely failed and sort of wanted to reprimand her for forgetting a key point in a case, but he didn’t think that would be the best start to their engagement.

“Shall we finish climbing this volcano then?” She suggested, taking his hand and turning to lead the way.

“Christ, do we have to? It’s so bloody hot and, well, we’ve done the proposal bit now. Can’t we go back to your plan for the day?” He complained.

“But as you pointed out _many_ times just now, we are half way there. Don’t you want to see the top?”

“Oh I’ve been up there four times already as part of the preparations,” he said dismissively, tugging her hand so they began to walk back down.

“ _Four times?_ ” She asked incredulously.  “When on earth did you do that?”

“Well, there is something you should know about that birthday party of yours…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a scene planned where Camille accidentally ruins Richard’s proposal for ages but no story for it to live it. After finishing Succession, I decided a sequel where that happens could work nicely. There is one more chapter after this with some details of the wedding, and setting us up for the third part of the series.


	6. The Making of Lady Camille Poole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter to wrap things up and set up for part 3. I didn’t expect to finish it the same day as Chapter 5 or I would have posted them together!

When Camille found out about the birthday party “cover up”, there was no dramatic argument about lying to her and the wedding did not get called off. Only a very, very small part of Richard had thought that to be a possibility anyway. Early the next morning his parents had called him. They had decided to leave telling anybody for a day, so they could enjoy the rest of their anniversary undisturbed, and as a consequence they were unaware of his engagement. Before he had the chance to tell them though, his mother had burst out excitedly that they were coming to visit again in 3 months’ time. Rather than have them delay their vacation by a couple of months, which Richard thought was perfectly sensible, Camille declared she would pull the whole thing together in time. It was made clear to him by the behaviour of Camille and Catherine that though he may be a key participant in the wedding, he would be lucky if he was even allowed to choose what he was going to wear.

A month into the planning a spanner got thrown into the works. Richard received a call from the production company informing him that HRH Prince Edward _would_ be coming to Saint Marie to film the documentary about the history of the Caribbean colonies. This would also be an official visit, meaning he would be representing the Queen and bringing the Countess of Wessex and their two children with them. Naturally the dates they would be on Saint Marie coincided with the wedding. Camille had looked so devastated when he suggested delaying the whole thing that he decided to forget that idea and push on ahead.

Good manners meant that they had no choice but to invite the Prince and his family to the ceremony. Richard was pleased when they accepted the invitation – though Camille’s nerves increased tenfold. The attendance of His Royal Highness meant he would not struggle to arrange security for that day – since nearly the entire Saint Marie police force would be at the wedding. They were bringing a few security officers with them anyway. It did mean he had to ask Fidel politely to refrain from drinking, and decided to do so himself. A week before the wedding, when Camille found out his intentions, she vowed not to drink either.

 

* * *

 

 

He was ready an hour earlier than he needed to be, so proceeded to spend that hour convincing himself Camille was going to change her mind and not turn up. Dwayne and Fidel had to practically drag him into the car, as he was so convinced she was not going to go through with the wedding, he didn’t want to go to the church only to be humiliated. One of them must have called his mother when he was distracted because she was waiting when they arrived. She gave a significant look to the junior officers who promptly disappeared, slid into the back of the car next to him. He then proceeded to receive the pep talk of his life.

Richard was glad he had previously learnt how to pronounce Camille’s middle name for the proposal that never was, as it meant no stumbling at the time of the vows. The same could not be said for Camille. Having completed his vows with what he felt were minimal nerves showing the priest turned to Camille and smiled kindly at her, “Now repeat after me, I Camille Quanesha, take you Richard George Martin Douglas Arthur…”

Camille’s response was to stare at Richard in alarm. “What is it?” He asked quietly.

“I didn’t realise you had so many middle names…”

He smiled and told her gently, “Yeah it’s sort of an aristocracy thing.” She continued to look mildly horrified. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” He asked, wondering if multiple names somehow tipped the balance out of his favour.

“No, it’s just, uh, well, I’m a bit nervous and sort of forgot some of the names…” She blushed, and Richard couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, which Camille, the Priest and the majority of the congregation joined in with. After that it felt like the tension had been lifted completely and he was much more relaxed for the rest of the ceremony.

 

* * *

 

At midnight, the party showed absolutely no signs of breaking up. Richard was exhausted, even though he had only done the minimum amount of dancing required to be polite. His father had probably spent more time on the dance floor then him. Camille had been particularly nervous when formally introduced to HRH and his family, and he thought he had seen her visibly start at being referred to for the first time as “Lady Camille Poole”. She remained tense after accepting the invitation to dance with His Highness, clearly fearing she was going to mess up in some way that caused deep and unforgivable offense. Richard and the Countess of Wessex had found it particularly amusing – later on she and her mother had taken Camille aside, probably to offer advise on how to cope with her new ‘status’. Richard’s favourite dance partner of the evening, besides Camille, had been Rosie – even though she deliberately stepped on his toes.

The fact he was ready for bed led Richard to begin to worry he was getting old, but couldn’t help but notice his new wife looked quite tired as well. Tired, but incredibly beautiful. His parents, old enough to get away with leaving early, appeared to be heading over to say goodbye. Their flight back to the UK was tomorrow evening, and at this rate is was unlikely Richard and Camille would see them again before they left because they’d still be at their bloody reception.

“Camille, my dear, you have done so marvellously to arrange this wedding in 3 months!” His Mother cried, embarrassing Camille enthusiastically. Richard noted his father take a small step back, clearly afraid that Camille may expect the same treatment from him. Camille had learnt from the last time she hugged him though, and instead just smiled at her new Father-in-Law. He gave a rather formal bow and said gravely, “Welcome to the family, Lady Poole.” After a suitable pause to acknowledge the drama of that little moment, his mother turned her affections on him, hugging him so tightly he feared he may lose consciousness due to lack of oxygen. He opted to simply shake his father’s hand.

As his mother was leaving she paused to add, “Just think, perhaps next time we come to Saint Marie it’ll be to meet Viscount Ipswich!”

Richard more than a little embarrassed by his mother’s comment, but Camille was smiling politely and nodding.  Once his parents were out of ear shot (about 5 metres given how noisy the party was) Camille turned to him and asked, “There is some sort of Viscount coming to live on the island?”

Oh, well, that explained her lack of embarrassment – she hadn’t actually understood what his mother had been saying. He smiled, somewhat ruefully, and told her, “No, my mother was taking the opportunity to remind us of her desire for grandchildren. Viscount Ipswich would be the title given to our first born son.”

Camille gave him a long look, before saying firmly, “I don’t like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third part of Succession, titled “Issue” will be published…at some point…


End file.
